She strolled toward the kitchen garden. Lush now, as the last of summer’s growth went wild to cast off seeds, it boasted fat cabbages and even some greens. She allowed herself a few minutes surrounded by autumn’s abundance. She permitted memories of playing with Louisa into her mind. She turned so no one in the barn or house could see her, and tears of sorrow and frustration flowed.
Chapter Thirteen
He did not often feel worthless, but he did now. He paced in the gathering dusk, looking to the road too often, hoping Napier returned soon. Had anyone else but Davina said a sick woman might die soon, he might have been skeptical. One look in her eyes, however, and he believed she knew what she was talking about.
It did no good to tell himself that people died of fevers all the time, that like everyone he accepted that. He did not know them most of the time, of course. But he did not know this Louisa either. All he knew was that Davina cared a great deal about saving her. They had loved each other once, and perhaps still did, despite the years and distance.
He began another circle of the house but stopped when he neared the back garden. Davina stood there amid the plants, taking some air, which she sorely needed by now. She looked to the sky, then her head bowed, and a curtain of short locks obscured her face. She turned away, facing a fence across from the barn.
He would leave her in peace. A subtle shift in her posture stopped him. Her shoulders and back sagged just enough to reveal her composure had broken. One small, quiet sob reached his ears.
He strode toward her on impulse. She heard him and looked over her shoulder. The soft light made the tears in her eyes glisten. She rushed to wipe them.
He took her hands in his so she would not work so hard at being brave. “Weep if you need to. No one will think the less of you.”
She looked up in astonishment. Her lips parted, as if she meant to respond, but instead her face fell into an expression of such sorrow that it broke his heart. She broke then. Large, loud sobs shook her until her chest heaved with them. He pulled her into his arms and held her while they racked her body.
“I should not—I don’t know why—” She gasped out the words when she could catch a breath.
“You should. As for why, you are tired and worried and no one can be strong all the time.”
She let him support her while she gave in and the tears flowed. He patted her head, the short locks giving way to her nape and shoulders under his fingers.
It was sympathy that led him to press a soft kiss to her crown, but more than that stirred in him when he did it. She did not seem to notice.
The tears tapered off, but she remained against him, sighing out their remnants. He should release her now, set her away. He didn’t, but instead submitted to the reckless impulse to hold her longer.
She stirred, as if wakening from a dream or a daze. She looked up at him. Her eyes still glistened and her face appeared luminous in the dusk. Not thinking or caring about consequences, he did what he should not do. He kissed her.
* * *
Warm lips pressed hers gently. The kiss expressed kindness and care, just as his embrace had, but—She could not deny it was more than that. For her, at least. It affected her deeply. It banished the worry and blotted out sorrow. Its warmth and sensuality seeped through her like water does dry sand.
It lasted too long to be a kiss of comfort, or so it seemed to her. Perhaps not. Maybe it was very brief, but she so totally experienced it that time slowed in her awareness.
Only when the kiss subtly changed, only when she sensed a rising passion in him and herself, did the truth press on her.The Duke of Brentworth is kissing me. Surely that was not a good idea. She should not have permitted it. The moment had made them both people other than they were.
He stopped the kiss. She looked up at him. He looked different. Harder and softer at the same time. His gaze arrested hers, and she did not resist the way his demanded a kind of submission to him seeing inside her. She realized she had been wrong about those eyes. Yes, they absorbed one, but one did not seek a way out. She didn’t, at least. She explored, much as she guessed he did. Not all was darkness in him, but more was than she expected.
A sound, distant but distinct, entered her awareness. Not in the house or barn, but on the road. He looked in that direction. “Napier has returned.”
They released each other and strode toward the front of the house, walking back into their true selves even as they left the garden. Within five steps, that kiss might never have happened.
But it had.
The carriage pulled up in front of the house. The duke got to the door before the coachman could climb down. A very tall, thin man in a dark coat stepped out. He took one look at the man who served as footman and bowed. “Your Grace, I assume.”
Napier inserted himself. “This be Dr. Chalmers, Your Grace.”
While Dr. Chalmers ingratiated himself with Brentworth, Davina pulled Napier aside. “Where did you find him?”
“At his club. I was told he is among the best.”
“By whom?”
“The best hotel. I asked who they call when they’ve someone of note who needs a physician. His name was given to me.”
“Was he drinking at that club?” She gave Dr. Chalmers a critical inspection.
